


dust to dust

by drmsqnc



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M, Suspense, sass and odd lore i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/pseuds/drmsqnc
Summary: three sharp rows of teeth grin at you from the blood in the water.“oh,” you say.





	dust to dust

something is wrong.

(the sky is blue, but not quite the right shade. it’s as though the world has shifted ten degrees to the left, a faint dissonance bitter on the back of your tongue.)

you follow the odd sensation: chase it up your calves to the tips of your fingers, feel the pulse of it roar in your ears and rush over the top of your scalp–

“curious.”

–and then you’re jerking upright, pulling and scratching uncontrollably at your throat  _because you aren’t breathing._

your fingers try and fail to press into your wet skin, slipping slick down your chest as you gasp and spit out black water. the overwhelming scent of sulfur burns behind your eyes, forcing you to gulp harsh intakes of air between the bouts of hacking.

as the last of the liquid drains from your mouth, your hysteria scatters temporarily – just enough to actually register your environment.    

you’re kneeling in a river.

you blink down at your hands.

moments before you must have been entirely submerged – a fact quite adamantly insisted by your still spasming lungs.

a whimper begins to build from somewhere deep inside you.

(stop.)

rivulets of ink drip down your face to collect in the crook of your lips, your collarbone. your nails dig into your palms, as though that will stop the shaking.

(hold it together. focus on something small; something simple.)

your chest heaves.

(breathing. you can do that.)

and so you breathe.

 _in, out, in_ ; slow, insistent repetition. you curl and uncurl your fists in tempo with the mantra, clearing your mind.

okay.

 _who_. you dig crescents into your wrists.  _who, what, when, where, why._

who is easy enough, you decide. you are you afterall. a quick body check – roll of the shoulders, twitch of your ankle, a glance updown – proves that everything is absolutely fine. the same as it always has been and forever will b–

you’re naked.

okay.

you think you should laugh. people normally laugh at these things, yes? at things that are uncomfortable. you should do that. it would probably help.

(you don’t laugh.)

 _what_ is next, and maybe this is simpler than who, because you’ve already come to the conclusion that you must be in a dream of some sort. any other possibility is quickly shut down lest you dive into panic again.

when, where and why flash by in a heartbeat. if what is unknown, how could you possibly answer these? maybe you could–

could–

god.

_god, why are you naked?!_

something brushes by your leg.

you  _screech._

the notion that you are, indeed, dressed shiny smooth as the day you were born is a jarring one, but not near startling enough to wrench you from the dirt you sit in. _no,_ you think wildly as you scuttle backwards on your elbows,  _not even close._

_there is something in the water._

the first you see are the eyes.

all six of them focused entirely on your form, luminescent gaze stained black with kohl. every muscle within you freezes. the head continues to rise, revealing porcelain skin and a threaded circle of thorns sitting on top raven hair.

three sharp rows of teeth grin at you from the blood in the water.

“oh,” you say.

you can feel your mind trying to frantically piece together what your eyes are seeing into something you can understand. somehow, you are aware your reaction should be worse than this. the point is moot. any and all comprehension has deserted.

“oh,” you say again.

(the heart is a muscle, yes? it must be frozen as well with the rest of you.)

four of the eyes disappear.

“curious.”

the mouth that just opened is all at once, normal. the voice leaving it is anything but: a smooth, deep vibration that echoes in your bones and rattles your teeth in your skull. there’s a huskiness scraping along the edges - as though it hasn’t been used in years.

“mortal,” the word is a cold, drawn out hiss.

 _yup, that’s me,_  you want to say. good ol’ mortal that apparently popped out in your river for a quick bath. dipped and got your toes wet, yup, nice, thanks you’ll be going. river water is in places river water should not be.

the words stay silent in your throat, buried with the rest of your confidence.

“hello,” is what comes spluttering out instead.

 _curious_ , he–(it? he?)–had said, twice now actually, but he didn’t look curious at all. the cold grey blue of his eyes glint like gun metal, everything about his expression screaming disdain. particularly disinterest in you.

“unprecedented. at this level ?” he seems to be talking to himself, or at the very least someone you cannot see. sparks light in your chest at the action. they rush down the current of your burnt out circuit, warm your gut and purse your lips.

he’s  _rude._

your brain immediately latches onto the thought, desperate to register something familiar. the human characteristic you attach onto him grounds you back to reality. your tongue loosens.

“i,” your voice aggressively cracks on a dry mouth. “i  _said_ hello.”

silence.

his eyes snap back to yours

and th

 _instantly, the temperature plunges down, squeezes a noose round your esophagus and yanks your ribcage right from your body, shattered bone and blood and flesh pushed up your lungs. something animal-like snaps across his face, half mad, and any intelligent thought deserts you, your very core reverted to the primal instinct of_ run _, please you are sorry youaresososorry,_

en he tilts his head owlishly, rolling his shoulders back.

“get out.”

it takes you a second to respond. there is a strange gap in your memory that wasn’t there before.

“getting out,” you agree, making no hesitation in wriggling up onto the river bank. the darkness around you presses to your figure, fitting so tightly against that it covers you as some sot of suit. you touch the sensation lightly, unsure of how to process the otherworldly material.

(definitely not cotton.

at least you’re wearing clothes.)

“’m sorry,” you ramble on, convinced if you stopped talking you would go insane. “for being in your river i mean. i-it wasn’t my fault though, or uh, at least i don’t think it was.”

when he doesn’t respond, you frown.

“thanks for not eating me i guess”–heaven help you why were you born without a censor–"but i kinda need to get going. see you later-”

 _“stay.”_  the command is short and curt. 

you feel a surge of irritation raise your eyebrows before it is quickly drowned out by trepidation as he steps out of the water. his very presence floods the space. it’s like mercury sliding over sand, all encompassing with a quiet violence that speaks to the depravity within your own soul. there are shadows of large wings trailing the ground behind him, invisible silk and oil following gold dappled soles. he stops to tower nearly an entire foot over you.

“stay.” he repeats. his shoulders are tensed, the muscles rippling. “and curb your tongue, lest i relieve you of it.”

your hands tremble at your sides. it takes every scrap of your will to suppress a scream.

“and what if i don’t?” your self-preservation screams at you, but your curiousity far outweighs it. “will you stop me?”

a beat.

“you will leave without my aid, little human?”

something like dark amusement crosses his visage. it’s the first real emotion you’ve seen from him.

his stare burn into your very being. “then pick your favourite god and pray, because that will be your only deliverance.”

fear twists a knife in your gut. you twitch, heavy under the pressure of his stare, but refusing to back down. his lip twitches.

“be glad i was the first to find you, or you would be long dead,” he speaks icily, fingers idly beginning to twist and pull through the air, as though he was weaving thread. “mortals often slip through the veil during dream state, but none have ever fallen this far down. you are impossibly lucky not to have encountered any of this realm’s inhabitants.” 

the timbre of his voice is bland, as though he couldn’t care less about what had happened to you. 

“it is most likely the river styx that covered your scent. be grateful - you tread in places you do not understand.”

you squirm, ignoring the unease you feel at his words.

“great,” you croak. “a special snowflake, that’s me. can we please reach the part where you send me home?”

his motions come to a stop with a sharp yank of his index finger. 

“of course.” he smiles, a slow, dark thing that makes your toes curl. pools of gold thread briefly appear out of nothing. 

“you need only want me to touch you.”

you nearly choke on your own spit.

“ _excuse me?_ ”

he steps closer, eyes glimmering silver. there’s something about the slant of his mouth that is positively sinful, that draws a long shiver up your spine. sharp incense floods your senses as your blood slows; thick and sugary, crawling through your veins. 

“oh,” he murmurs. “oh  _darling._ ” 

you barely hear your ragged inhale over the drum of thunder in your chest.

teeth flash in the darkness.

“truly, you did not think it would be that easy?”


End file.
